


sleeping boys cant lie

by Imightbeatomato



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Knitting, Light Angst, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, This is my very first Fic, idk what else to tag, scottish safehouse, these boys have trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21684205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imightbeatomato/pseuds/Imightbeatomato
Summary: Jon has insomnia.Martin tries to stay up to keep him company but passes out.In the morning they talk about their feelings.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 28
Kudos: 208





	sleeping boys cant lie

Sleep never came easily for Jon. He was practically incapable of resting. There was always something to do, something to learn, something to find. His brain rejected any idea of inactivity.

Usually this was fine. He would just work until he passed out. There was never anyone to tell him he couldn’t- his Grandmother wasn’t involved enough to notice so long as he wasn’t disruptive- and he was naturally irritable anyway so working off of less sleep didn’t change much. 

Georgie noticed. But by that point it was so ingrained into him that there wasn’t really any chance of changing him. She would go to bed, and sometime in the night he might fall into bed next to her, or she would find him the following morning. 

Often he would get through the entire night without falling asleep at all. Other times Georgie would find him on the couch with a book on his chest, or at the table drooling onto his keyboard.

When Jon fled to the Scottish Highlands with Martin, he was entirely put out for a number of reasons. 

For one, having left in such a hurry, he hadn’t brought nearly enough books to keep himself occupied. Of course, there was a bookshop in the town, but it was both very far away, and pitifully small. This left him with an uncomfortable amount of time on his hands. 

He started picking up books that taught him how to _do_ things rather than taught him _about_ things. This helped with the inactivity, but didn’t quite staunch the boredom.

For another, Martin was less willing to ignore his bad habits than Georgie. Not that he tried to force Jon to sleep in a bed at a reasonable time. Rather worse (in Jon’s opinion) he tried to stay up with Jon to keep him company. 

All this is to explain how Jon came to be sitting on a small loveseat with Martin beside him, trying to figure out how to knit. He had picked up the book as well as the needles just the day before. Martin had picked out a couple balls of yarn. 

Initially, Martin had intended to learn how to knit too, but it was only about eleven when Martin finally passed out with his head back against the couch. By 11:30 he had drifted slowly sideways to the point that his head was nestled on Jon’s shoulder.

As soon as Jon felt Martin touch him he froze.

Martin had been very careful about touching people since he came back from the lonely, and any small brush of his hand was rare and precious. This level of trust and familiarity was such a leap, that Jon felt a rush of pride and hope and no insignificant amount of terror that if he moved an inch it would wake Martin and he would move away.

At this point, Jon had already managed to follow the books instructions to make a couple small, dark green dishcloths, and had started on a more ambitious project: he had decided to make a scarf.

He was about two hours and six inches into the scarf when he realized he had made a mistake and would have to start over. Again. But this time, as he began to unravel his work, Martin stirred. It may have been the small but passionate swear Jon let out, or it may have been his movement to reach for the book to double check the instructions, but either way, Martin moved and made a soft sound of discontent.

Jon immediately went silent and stopped moving. He held his breath as Martin shifted so that his shoulders were more pointed towards john and he snuggled closer with an arm thrown around Jon’s waist. As Martin let out a sigh as relaxed further, Jon slowly let out his breath and softened as well.

He looked down at Martin with a small smile, rested his own head on top of Martin’s and restarted the scarf. It wasn’t too long before Jon drifted off as well.

When the sun rose over the hills, and light streamed in through the windows, Jon woke up to a weight pressing down on him. For a moment he was back in the coffin. Walls pressing in, unable to move, the air thick with must and dirt. He jerked awake and flailed for a second but stopped as soon as he realized that instead of cold, hard, unrelenting dirt, his hands met a warm, soft body. 

At Jon’s sudden movement, Martin jerked away as well and rolled off of the couch, falling to the floor with a startled “Oof”

“Oh, god. Martin.” Jon sat up and rubbed at his face, still a bit groggy but also full of adrenalin “I’m sorry, are you alright?”

Martin scrambled to his feet, face aflame, “Yeah, yes. Yes. No. Fine. I’m fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” he cut himself off abruptly “I’m going to make some tea.”

The safehouse was small, with only the three rooms. The living room/kitchen, the bedroom and the bathroom. There was nowhere to run, but Martin clearly wanted to.

Jon may be emotionally repressed, and a tad oblivious, and maybe he had been called ‘a complete idiot when it comes to social cues’ but he could tell that Martin was uncomfortable. He just didn't know what to do with that information. He settled for having a shower and getting changed into clothes that hadn’t been slept in.

When he came back out, Martin had not only made tea but also eggs and toast, and was seated at the kitchen table with two steaming plates.

Jon sat across from him and took a couple bites. He wanted to bring up Martin’s cuddling last night but could think of no way to gracefully do so.

Maybe Martin legitimately had had no idea what he had been doing. It was a reasonable assumption, he was asleep the whole time. Maybe he just legitimately and sincerely wanted to be alone from now on. Maybe he only stayed up with Jon late into the night because he thought it was the polite thing to do.

There was no confirmation that he still felt the way he did before going into the lonely. Jon was the one to lead them out, and Martin had only confirmed that he _had_ loved Jon. Not that he still did so.

Maybe he was only staying here with Jon because he had nowhere else to go. 

“Jon?” Martin asked, “Are you alright? You’re shaking.”

“Hmm? Yes. Fine.” Jon croaked out

They sat in silence for a minute before Jon worked up the courage to speak again.

“Martin?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you- Do you want to be here?”

At the strange look Martin gave him, he tried again

“No. Stupid question. Who wants to be on the run from the law? I suppose I mean… do you want- no. Do you… Do you mind being stuck here, with me?”

“I’m not sure I understand what you're asking. Of course I mind being stuck here, Jon. We may be wanted for murder. We have no idea who got hurt back at the archive. We have no idea what Elias may be planning and no way to stop it.” Martin hesitated before continuing, “But if you want to know whether I have an issue with having to be around you. No. There’s probably no one I would rather be in hiding with. Out of the two of us, I would have thought you would be more uncomfortable having to stay with me?”

“Me? Why would I have a problem?”

“Well… It’s no secret how I feel about you. It’s practically been common knowledge for a couple years now. To have to share a house with me, let alone a room… I could see it being awkward for you”

Jon took a moment to make sure he wasn’t accidentally going to compel Martin. That particular… ability always seemed to come out when he was too eager to know something. “You still feel… that way?”

“What? Of course. After what you did for me? How on earth would I have stopped? Why would you think I ever could?”

The hope Jon had been pushing down sprang back up full force. He wanted to smile. But Martin wasn’t smiling. Martin was frowning. Martin was asking questions that he should have known the answers to. 

“Martin, you’ve been avoiding me since I woke up from my coma. What was I to tink but that you’d gotten over me? As you should have. I was nothing but rude to you for the entire time we worked together. Sure, I had hoped that you were only acting that way because of Peter Lukas, but you still shy away from me. The only times you touch me is by accident or necessity.”

“‘Hoped?’”

“Yes, ‘hoped’.” Jon took a moment to try to figure out what Martin was asking before coming to a slow realization “Martin. You do know that I love you… right?”

"Why would I know that?"

"Martin, I led us out of the Lonely. The only way heard of for people to do that is through love."

“How am I to know what new ‘Archivist’ powers you might have?" Though his words were defensive, finally, Martin was smiling, teasing, "For all I know you might just have been able to See through the fog with special Eye abilities.”

“Is that why you’ve been so closed off then? Just because you were worried about making me uncomfortable?”

“Well, partially.” Martin shrugged, “The other part is that I guess I’m just… out of practice? At physical contact? It feels weird. Everytime I’m close to another person I’m just so aware of every place where I might make contact. I’m scared of messing up or moving wrong. I’m scared of coming across as rude and ‘untouchable’ but I’m also scared of touching and doing the wrong thing. Of hurting someone or acting wrong. Everything is only made worse by how intense it feels to be touched. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s like every nerve is just sitting on the edge of its seat waiting to register the slightest brush of another person’s hand against mine. It’s a lot. I want to be close to people, but it’s hard. I’m not trying to avoid touching you.”

“Oh,” well that’s good to know. It was all just a sort of misunderstanding. But still, moving forward, “I’m not sure what to do now. Can I… help”

A grin! A full expression of relief and adoration and happiness clearly painted across Martin's face. “Yes, Jon. you can help. Just having talked about it helps. Getting it out in the open, and knowing that you know. Also though, just… Talk to me. Let me know what you want. What you expect of me.”

“Alright. Can we… Can we clean up from breakfast and um. Can-we-go-back-to-cuddling-on-the-couch?” Jon spat out before he lost the nerve, “It’s just, last night when you were asleep you were very cuddly and it was… nice.”

“Yes Jon,” Martin laughed a little, “I’d like that”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I have ever written  
> As well this marks the first time I've ever shared my writing with anyone  
> PLEASE let me know if I should be tagging anything else, I have no idea what I'm doing
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> 


End file.
